


7 Days to Fall For You

by saiikavon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Klance Secret Santa 2016, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:04:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiikavon/pseuds/saiikavon
Summary: Keith is an art student who mostly keeps to himself, taking note of the beauty in life but keeping his distance from it. This includes the beautiful dancer he sees across the street from his apartment...until a week-long art project pushes him to change that.(For Klance Secret Santa 2016)





	

**Monday, Day 1**

Everyone in the class had known about Professor Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane’s 7-Day Sketch Project from the start. Seven days with a new sketch each day, all revolving around the same subject, with a personal evaluation of the students’ own works at the end. “It will involve picking a subject that moves you,” Shiro had said, “And challenging yourself to discover what really makes you an artist.” The way he said it, even the most cynical student couldn’t help but believe it. Keith, at least, was curious about what that would mean for him.

They’d been given the week before the start of the project to announce their topic, but Keith knew from the beginning what he wanted to sketch. Or rather, who. His best friend in the class, Katie “Pidge” Holt, already knew as well, and teased him relentlessly about it.

“Shiro, what if we wanted to pick a _human_ subject?” she’d asked, side-eyeing Keith with a knowing smirk. Keith had responded with a scowl and a shove to her ribs.

“You can,” the professor replied, “but I don’t want to see seven days of just figure drawings. Whether this is a family member, a friend, a lover…I want to see what you’re thinking when you see them. Art, and therefore this project, isn’t as much about the subject as how you choose to interpret it. So keep that in mind when you’re sketching.”

Keith kept it in mind. It wasn’t hard, considering that he already thought of his subject on a daily basis…despite the fact that he didn’t even know the man’s name.

There was a dance studio across from the bus stop near Keith’s apartment that housed classes during afternoons and early evenings, but also functioned as a practice studio during the free hours in the early mornings and late evenings. It was while waiting for the bus one morning that Keith first saw him: light brown skin and short brown hair; long, slender limbs and a lean body. The gay part of Keith was stupidly attracted. The artist part of him, possibly even more attracted. Keith loved the way the man’s body created such long lines when he was warming up, everything sleek and graceful, right down to his fingertips. That, without a doubt, was what Keith wanted to capture for his first day of his sketch project.

He got up early to wait at the bus stop, sketch book open and ready. His mystery dancer arrived, eight a.m. on the dot, to open up the studio and set things up. He turned on the lights, plugged in a small stereo in the corner, and moved around whatever was left from the previous day’s practices before starting his own practice. Keith watched carefully as he began his warmup, waiting for the exact pose he wanted to put on paper. He waited for what felt like hours (though it was only a few minutes), filling up with so much anticipation that his hand started shaking over the paper.

He saw it at last; one leg up on the bar, toe pointed, his arms stretched out until his fingertips touched his toes, back bowed into the position. His balance must have been incredible, but Keith was focused on the lines his body made. He began to sketch with long strokes, caressing the paper with those lines that he wished he could caress with his own hands. He was so familiar with this pose, that it hardly took any time at all before he was finished with his sketch.

**Tuesday, Day 2**

Keith showed up during Shiro’s office hours the next day, first sketch in hand to be critiqued. The professor encouraged his students to keep pushing their own boundaries when it came to their art, and that went especially for this project—the way he presented the assignment was designed to make them all question what made a subject appealing to them. Keith wasn’t a terribly introspective sort, so while it wasn’t mandatory to show his sketch until the end of the week, he knew the extra feedback would help him a lot in the long run.

The professor looked at his drawing, nodded a few times, and then handed it back silently. Keith watched him expectantly.

“Well?”

“This is a decent start,” Shiro said. “It’s clear that you appreciate the form of your subject, but the question now is how will you expand upon this?”

Keith blinked. “Expand?”

“I hope you weren’t just going to show me a new dance sketch for every day of the week,” Shiro replied with a chuckle. “Keith, I know you; you have great technique, but that’s not what this project is about. You do remember me saying I didn’t want just a figure drawing for every day, right?”

Keith felt a little baffled. “I just…thought if I could show the different ways he moves…”

“Do you even know who he is?” Shiro gave Keith a probing stare, and Keith felt himself wither a little. “I’m not saying you have to rethink your entire subject. I just need you to learn a little more about your subject. Try talking to him next time, see what comes of it. You can do this, you just need to dive a little deeper.”

This was why, just over an hour later, Keith was standing outside of the dance studio, bundled up against the autumn chill, his sketch book tucked under his arm. Pidge stood next to him with her own sketch book and an enormous takeaway cup of hot chocolate.

“I assume we’re going to go in eventually,” Pidge said dryly, “instead of standing out here staring into the window like a couple of creepers.”

Keith glared at his shorter friend. “You’re supposed to be my emotional support.”

“I’m more equipped to provide a mental kick in the pants.”

Keith grumbled. Inside, a class of small children was starting, led by a tall, white-haired woman and her two assistants—one being Keith’s mystery dancer. The other was a man probably the same age as said mystery dancer, but a little taller and with a round, friendly face. All three were surrounded by energetic little children, who were watching them intently as they were given careful instructions. Keith’s eyes fell to his dancer, as the lean lines of the man’s body straightened to demonstrate perfect posture to a little girl.

Keith still wasn’t confident about going in, but he did it anyway.

Stepping into the studio was like stepping into some surreal alternate world. All the colors seemed brighter, and it smelled of air freshener. He could hear the chattering of the children, the music they were moving to, and the calm voices of the instructors as they tried to keep their class in line. Behind him, a little bell jingled, announcing first his entrance and then Pidge’s; the latter sound followed by Pidge’s gasp as she caught sight of the succulents decorating the reception area. She was still cooing over them by the time the friendly-faced man came to greet them.

“Hey, nice to see some new faces.” His smile was bright as the sun, and his demeanor so open that Keith automatically reached out to shake his hand. “My name’s Hunk.”

“Keith. The one drooling over your plants is Pidge.” Keith jerks his thumb in his friend’s direction.

“These are in such great condition. Just look at the leaves on this one, not a single one rotted! I have never seen such perfection.”

The man called Hunk beamed proudly. “Thanks! You have no idea how great it is to hear that; I mean, most people don’t care about succulents as much as I do. The ones there aren’t even half of what I’ve got at home. I have some aloe plants that are really cool, but Allura said they were a little too spiky to put near children…”

“Hunk!” someone, who happened to be Keith’s mystery dancer, snapped from the other room. “Would you stop going on about your plants and get them signed up or whatever? Focus, man!”

“That’s rich coming from you, Lance!” Hunk shouted back; though he did get back on topic. “Sorry. Anyway, as you can see, we’re doing the kid’s class right now, but I can help you with anything else you might need.”

“I think I’m going to be good right here,” Pidge replied, already flipping open her sketch book. “You mind if I draw these?  
”  
“Uh…sure, I guess.” Hunk shrugged. “What for?”

Pidge was already in her zone; she wasn’t going to reply. That left it up to Keith, who rubbed the back of his neck before explaining. “We’re, um, not actually here to dance. We’re taking an art class at the Garrison Community College. And, well, I live across the street from this dance studio, and I kind of liked what I saw, so…I was hoping you guys would let me use the class as a subject?”

Keith avoided mentioning exactly who his subject would be. He hoped the red on his cheeks just came off as shyness or awkwardness, and not at all like he was hiding something.

Hunk looked back at the white-haired woman, the question written on his face. She beckoned them forward, stepping away from her students for just a moment to speak to Keith. She introduced herself as Allura, the owner of the studio, and directed him to a row of chairs next to a few mothers and a couple of dads.

“I am always happy to support the arts, of course,” she said. “I would ask you to limit your drawings to me or my instructors, when it comes to people, however. Some of our students’ parents may not be comfortable with it; we want to be respectful.”

“That’s fine,” Keith said. He was only here to draw—what was his name?—Lance, anyway. Who, when being mentioned, showed off a perfect pirouette and then actually winked at Keith.

“Be sure to get my good side, mullet-man.”

Keith’s face burned, and his heart gave a ridiculously cliché little jump. That little smirk, the wink, the tilt of Lance’s head, the lock of brown hair that swept playfully over his forehead…the image of that one expression dug into Keith’s brain like a tick and wouldn’t let go. He flipped open his sketch book.

Keith spent the entire class recreating Lance’s expression in perfect detail.

 **Wednesday, Day 3**

Keith passed his sketch book to Shiro at the start of class the next day, then waited patiently for the evaluation. He wouldn’t be the only one who got some feedback on their project today, so he didn’t need to worry about holding up the work. He only needed to worry if he was ‘digging deeper’ like Shiro said he should.

Shiro just looked up at him with a knowing smile. “You talked to him, I see.”

Keith’s face did its best impersonation of a tomato. “I was just taking your advice.”

“I am very glad you did,” Shiro replied. “It looks like you’re getting on the right track.”

Keith lit up. “Yeah?” He took his sketch book back from Shiro, who nodded in return before taking Pidge’s sketch book to look at.

“Whatever you did that made this sketch, I want you to keep it up.”

Curious about that feedback, Keith looked over his sketch from the previous day again, getting lost in that smirk. He actually forgot about the day’s in-class assignment, and spent the rest of the class touching up every line on Lance’s perfect face.

Pidge hovered behind him, humming in an annoyingly knowing way. “You need to ask him out,” she said, in the flattest tone her voice could manage.

“What? No.” Keith shut his sketch book with a sharp _slap_. A moment later, he winced and reopened the book to frantically retouch the smeared lines. “He is an _art project_ , Pidge. I’m not asking him out.”

“He is not just an art project. He is a person, whom you want to kiss on the face. Possibly several times.”

Keith frowned, his voice dropping into an embarrassed mumble. “I just think he’s nice to look at.”

“You’ve been looking at him for weeks, even before this project,” Pidge said. “You’re at least curious about him, and if yesterday didn’t give you actual butterflies in your stomach, I will throw out my favorite cactus.” She leaned over, giving Keith a deadly serious look. “I never bet Rover, Keith. Do you understand that, Keith? _Never_.”

“Oh my god.” Keith sighed. “Okay, fine. Fine. Maybe I’m kind of interested, but it is not happening. I don’t want to ruin the project.”

Pidge eyed him skeptically. There was a moment of silence.

“If you’re considering it by the end of the day,” she said. “I win.”

Keith and Pidge went back that afternoon, Keith to sit in on another class, Pidge to talk to Hunk more about his plants. Lance’s form was as perfect as ever, but Keith was looking for that smile again, some of that same confidence and sass from the day before. Thankfully, Lance was more than happy to provide all the flirtatious and sensual looks Keith could ask for. He had warmer smiles for the kids; he praised them when they did something correctly, and encouraged them when they were having trouble. There were a hundred little smiles that made Keith’s stomach do somersaults, but one that made his pencil almost move on its own.

Keith picked a softer smile as his third sketch, one directed at one of the younger kids. It was something gentle and patient, soothing frustrated tears when one of the younger kids could not stay in position as long as she wanted. “You’ll get it!” he told her. “You just have to keep practicing.”

Keith’s heart fluttered. Maybe Pidge had a point.

**Thursday, Day 4**

Keith had scanned and emailed his new sketch to Shiro the previous night. Given the praise he received that same day, he’d felt he was finally getting the hang of what the project needed. Yet, the response he received put him right back at square one: _“What is art good for, if you’re not pushing your boundaries? Dig deeper.”_ That, coupled with Pidge’s words, left him uncertain and deeply frustrated.

He knew he was being pushed to interact more with Lance, and the thought didn’t appeal to him as much as he knew it should. It went against everything he found good and satisfying about art. Lance was pretty, like a clear stream or a crackling fireplace, in that getting too close risked ruining the perfect image. He was a picture that Keith wanted to preserve, to keep pristine and beautiful as a subject, rather than risk distorting him into something unbearable to look at. No matter what Pidge said, Keith and Lance absolutely could not date. Not even once.

He didn’t feel like sitting in on another class today. Instead, he went back to his comfort zone, and headed out to the bus stop watch Lance do his morning practice.

He’d planned to keep his distance, anyway, until Lance happened to spot him across the street. One enthusiastic wave later, and Keith felt compelled to go in, rather than continue to sit out there where Lance could see him. He became uncomfortably aware of how creepy it was to watch someone from afar when the person in question could see him.

Lance was just starting his stretches when Keith walked in. He offered one of those smiles that made Keith’s heart about stop in his chest, while stretching one leg over his head in a move Keith was sure was invented just to make people like Lance look unnaturally sexy.

_‘Get ahold of yourself, Kogane.’_

Lance went into a sideways stretch while Keith found a place to sit and tried to think of which pose to draw.

“More of your project, mullet-man?” he asked, all flirty eyes and smirk. “How long does that go on for, anyway?”

“It’s a week-long project,” Keith replied distractedly, opening his sketch book. Which pose, which pose?

Lance did a couple more stretches, his body moving in those long lines that Keith always loved to look at. His pencil remained unmoving. He bit his lip in frustration.

“When you’re done, can I see it?”

Keith looked up. “What?”

“Hey, you’re putting this pretty face on paper,” Lance said, making a sweeping gesture around his smooth-skinned face. “I need to see if you properly capture all this perfection.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith raised a brow. “The real challenge will be capturing your humility.”

“Wha--!” Lance’s mouth fell open and he clasped his hand to his heart. “That was an insult!”

“Your powers of observation are next.”

“Oh, you wound me.” Lance laughed, and it was so infectious that Keith found himself smiling as well. They traded banter for a few more moments, smiles laced in between them, until Lance finished up his warmup.

Laughter was still bubbling in Keith’s chest as Lance started his practice, and it warmed him from the inside as he watched. They still traded smiles with every pirouette, every kick and jump and all the other moves Keith couldn’t name. Lance looked so excited when he danced, even more than Keith had ever experienced watching him across the street. Lance seemed to thrive with an audience, not just performing, but dancing like he knew no one could help but watch. Like something that lived to be noticed…like…

Keith started drawing and couldn’t stop until the dance was through.

He’d turned Lance into a bird of paradise, form posed into the same lively dance Keith had been watching this whole time, but also decorated with brilliantly-pattern wings. Were it more than just a sketch, Keith could imagine the colors he’d put into it, all cool blues and purples, maybe tinges of red. It was nothing like the perfect figures Keith was used to drawing. He wasn’t even sure if it was good, but he felt attached to it nonetheless.

“Wow.”

Keith jumped, his breath catching. He glanced up and saw Lance peering down at him; or rather, his sketch book, his drawing, the image of Lance as Keith had seen him in that moment. Keith’s stomach tightened and he snapped his book shut.

Lance, obviously startled, stepped back and frowned. “Hey, what’s wrong? You made me look totally amazing! I mean, not that that’s hard to do, but—“

“It’s not…I don’t know.” Keith shrugged. “I just sort of…improvised it.”

“I think it looks great,” Lance assured him. He reached out to help Keith up off the floor. “Really. You’re really talented.”

Keith had been told that before. Coming from Lance, though, it felt brand new. He grasped Lance’s hand and stood. He felt like his heart hadn’t stopped fluttering all morning.

Lance flashed him a smile, flirtatious as usual, and asked if he wanted to go out for coffee. Keith’s better judgment said no. He had to keep his distance, so that nothing could taint the perfect image; that was how he did things. That was how he kept his life from going wrong. Besides, Pidge would never let him forget it if he went.

Lance’s eyes were the brightest blue Keith had ever seen. He said yes.

**Friday, Day 5**

Coffee with Lance was really, really nice. If Keith had ever allowed himself a fantasy-date with Lance, it probably would have gone very similar to yesterday’s date. The coffee was decent, the conversation wasn’t too awkward, and Lance…Lance was…

Keith learned that Lance had four sisters, and yet he was somehow the only one who wound up into ballet as a kid. He grew up in Cuba, but flew into the states for some prestigious performing arts college. He loved all kinds of dance and even did some musical theater, but ballet was his first love. That explained the dance classes—it was a job, but it was something he loved, too.

_“What about you, Keith? What do you love about art?”_

Keith looked through his sketches, the ones before Lance and the last one of Lance. The others, he could see the motivation for. Keith always loved the way things looked when he could see the details, when he tuned everything else out. He loved being in his zone, and he felt such an incredible sense of peace when something turned out the way he wanted it. That’s what he told Lance—about the peace, the way the world fell away.

_“It just…it feels good, you know?”_

_“Yeah. It does feel good.”_

The drawing of Lance from the day before was not perfect. The detail on the wings wasn’t quite right; one was smaller than the other, too, and it wasn’t just perspective. The shading was in the wrong place. He could see about a dozen other things that needed fixing, but he didn’t want to throw it away. He didn’t hate it, and he didn’t feel at peace. Keith was excited about this drawing.

Shiro had high praise for it, too, when Keith emailed it to him the night before. _“This is what I wanted to see. Keep in mind what you felt when you drew this—remember, you’re going to need to evaluate your own work at the end of the project, too. As for me, I think this is great work, Keith.”_

Keith didn’t know what to do with that.

He brought Pidge back to the dance studio that afternoon for another visit. She and Hunk hit it off well that first day. They’d exchanged plants, and apparently had hung out outside of the dance class the last couple of days. What it meant for Friday, though, was that they kept exchanging knowing looks and giggling at each other. Keith strongly suspected that Hunk now knew about his maybe-possibly minor crush on Lance.

Lance was as perfect as ever, except somehow a little bit more. He greeted Keith with one of his ridiculously beautiful smiles, and said, “Hey, right on time, mullet-man.” Keith still didn’t understand that nickname, but it felt comfortable. Coming here was becoming…fun.

“I can’t imagine what it will feel like holding class without Keith and Pidge, once this week is over,” Allura said.

“Oh, no need to worry about that.” Pidge leaned over the counter up front. “I’ll find more excuses to come back.”

“We do need someone to handle the calls and the front desk,” Hunk said with a shrug. “With our class sizes, it’s hard for Lance and me to divide our attention between the kids and the phone.”

“And Allura’s already busy with building-ownership stuff,” Lance added.

Pidge grinned. “Hey, sign me up.”

Allura clasped her hands together in delight. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll put the paperwork through and we can work out a schedule over the weekend.”

“Keith’s job can be ‘cute guy who brings Lance coffee,’” Lance suggested. Keith looked up from his sketch book, where he’d just started doodling Lance with a cup of coffee in his hands, an image left from the day before that had stuck in Keith’s mind.

“I think that’s called an intern,” he said, raising a brow. “And don’t they bring everyone’s coffee?”

“Nope. You’ll be my personal assistant. That means everyone else gets their own coffee.”

“It also means that you get to pay him yourself,” Allura said slyly. “Enjoy figuring that out.”

There was some laughter, and Keith shook his head, returning to his sketch. He felt the warmth of the memory as he recreated the lines; Lance’s fingers around the cup, the kind expression on his face, the scarf wrapped around his neck. Keith could almost hear their voices, their conversation tinged with ease and comfort despite having only known each other for a few days.

Conversation filtered out as the kids began to filter into the studio, and everyone got into their respective places. Pidge joined Keith in his corner spot while Lance, Allura, and Hunk began welcoming the kids and prepared for the start of class. Keith already knew the routine, just like he knew how long it took to get to his class and where the best food near campus was. It was just part of his day now.

He was okay with that.

**Saturday, Day 6**

The dance studio was closed on weekends. Keith knew that; it was printed on the door for everyone to see. He’d known that from the first day he walked in. Only those few short days ago, the only thing that had meant was that Keith would have to go off his memory for his daily sketch. After the past week, it meant that Keith felt like a complete idiot for not getting Lance’s number when they went out for coffee.

Keith found that he was reevaluating a lot of things lately, and not just in terms of his art. He’d never been good at making friends, but that was kind of expected when you got moved around so much. He was a foster kid, and a hopelessly shy one at that. He’d never learned how to make any real connections with people. It wasn’t until he started looking into a real art school that he made his first real friend—and Pidge was his only one for years.

She wasn’t anymore.

Having an existential crisis was exhausting, so Keith resolved to spend the day in bed. He did take some time for the day’s sketch, but his heart wasn’t in anything too big. He worked slowly, drawing Lance’s hands in the shape of a heart. He added a few background details, in between whatever easy meals he could scavenge from his kitchen, but otherwise kept it simple.

He had a cup of noodles in the microwave when his phone rang. He answered it without thinking, not paying attention to the unknown number on the screen.

“Hey, Keith? It’s Lance.”

Everything froze. Keith was positive he had to be hearing things. “Lance? How…how did you even get my number?”

“Well, I asked Hunk if it would be creepy to ask you right off the bat, then he told me he could just ask Pidge, and then I said that would be even weirder, he told me to stop being a baby—“

Keith laughed and shook his head. “Lance, is this going somewhere?”

“—soanywayHunkfinallyaskedPidgejusttogetitoverwithandherewearekayI’mgonnagobye—“

“Lance!” Keith sighed as Lance finally stopped babbling. “This is fine. I was actually…kind of kicking myself for not getting your number the other day. I’m glad you called.”

“Really?” Lance sounded hopeful; Keith could easily picture a pink tinge to his cheeks. “Oh. That’s…well, that’s good.” There was a hesitant pause. “You’re not busy right now, are you?”

The microwave beeped loudly behind Keith, promptly answering that question. Keith pulled his meager meal out of the microwave and headed back to sit on his bed. “Just getting something to eat,” he said. “Been kind of a boring day.”

“I know, it’s not easy being without my handsome face.”

They started talking, and Keith felt the knots in his stomach start to unwind. It felt almost like their date at the coffee shop, just without Lance’s stunning blue eyes staring back at him. The warmth was the same. They talked for hours and Keith barely felt the time pass.

After a long time, Lance finally sighed. “Okay, I should probably let you go…but hey, before I forget, I should probably tell you why I actually called in the first place.”

Keith smiled softly. “Hmm. Yeah. You probably should.”

“I was just wondering…since we had such a good first date…if you count it as a date…would you want to go on another one with me? Tomorrow? Say…two o’ clock?”

Keith’s heart fluttered. He looked down at his sketch, and placed a hand over it, being careful not to smudge it. That was the closest he’d get to holding Lance’s hands right now…but maybe tomorrow that would change. Maybe a lot of things in the future would change.

“Yes,” he replied. “I would love to.”

**Sunday, Day 7**

_Today I realized that I forgot something important. Before the project started, you told us that it was going to challenge us to discover what really makes us artists. I thought I knew what that meant for me. I thought I didn’t need to push myself, as an artist, or as a person, because I was satisfied with where things were. As you kept telling me, day after day, I needed to dig deeper. My life was fine, and my first few sketches were what I had come to expect of myself. As it turns out, being satisfied just isn’t enough for me, and it never really was. Drawing was my safety zone when I was a kid, but if it wasn’t anything more than that, I don’t think I would have pursued it like this. Just like I wouldn’t have pursued Lance if all I saw him as was a pretty face._

_Art is everything to me. It’s how I make sense of everything, and it’s how I make sense of myself. In that respect, I look back and wish I could have made more things that reached beyond the surface. I still have a lot more to learn, but I won’t stop trying to look deeper. I wouldn’t have known I even could if it hadn’t been for you._

_Thanks, Shiro._

_-Keith Kogane_

Below the evaluation was another drawing, the last one of the entire project. In it, Keith drew another simple sketch: a pair of lions, one long and sleek, posed playfully; the other a little smaller, a little more uncertain, looking up at the sleeker one with some kind of fondness. Keith decided on a color for each; blue for the first one, red for the second. It was the boldest thing he’d done all week, at least in terms of the project. Going on his date with Lance would probably top that.

There was a knock on the door ten minutes to two, and Keith’s heart lightened at the sound. He figured that meant it was worth the risk.

He’d just have to wait and see.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr!
> 
> Main: http://saiikavon.tumblr.com/  
> Writing blog: http://saiikasnotebook.tumblr.com/


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